Untitled
by TheVeiledFairy
Summary: "I can see in her eyes that she's discovered how flustered I'm becoming...and she likes it."


Even when I turn to look at the rustle of leaves I know to be Johanna Mason, it doesn't register in my mind.

Her costume is...rustic, to say the least and with her flinging pieces of it haphazardly behind her as she heads towards the elevators, I can see that there won't be much left of it by the time she arrives.

I'm suddenly feverish and my eyes can't seem to stray from her.

She's just chucking a gaudy headdress made of some kind of leaf I don't remember ever seeing in the forest behind her when she notices my staring.

I quickly turn away, hoping the unusually heavy makeup Cinna selected for me hides my blush. Johanna's smug smirk tells me it doesn't.

But her smirk is the only acknowledgement she spares as she rolls her eyes and trains them on me.

"Isn't my costume awful?..." she begins and I can't say that I hear the rest of her complaints as my attention is inexplicably drawn to the finger she's currently trailing between the low neckline of her dress.

I lick my lips, but my tongue provides no relief; my mouth has gone dry and I'm certain that Cinna's suits really are on fire as feel the lightest sheen of sweat cooling on my brow.

"...Wish I'd gotten Cinna." She's watching me now. Waiting for a reaction and I'd be lying if I said those words didn't immediately capture my attention.

I look back up and meet her wide eyes briefly before Johanna trails them up and down the length of my body.

Over my lips, my chin. Down over the curve of my breasts, emphasized and accented by the skintight fit of my suit. She lingers at the apex of my thighs and it's then that I shift uncomfortably and she stops, eyes darting up to meet my own again.

"You look fantastic."

I can't think, let alone form words to counter hers. Peeta squeezes my hand and I start. I'd forgotten he was here and I instantly loosen the vice-like grip I have around his fingers.

I make up some line about my supposed fashion designing hobbies, sputter out some nonsense about seeing what Cinna can do with velvet, and hope it's enough.

Her eyes sparkle and she steps just a little closer.

Enough to seem innocuous to any onlookers, and there are many, but I can see in her eyes that she's discovered how flustered I'm becoming...and she likes it.

"I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous...I wanted to reach right through the screen and tear it right off your back."

I swallow thickly and try to ignore the tremors I feel coming from Peeta next to me, alerting me to his barely restrained snickers.

I tell myself to remember to knock him into an urn for old time's sake, but I'm not sure my brain has registered anything since Johanna Mason told me she wants rip my clothes off.

It seems she's aware of the double meaning behind her words and of course she is. She's enjoying this little game we've begun. If one could even call it a game when it's already oh, so clear who the winner will be.

I begin to think she's lost interest in toying with me when she turns to wait for the elevators to rise without another word. She faces forward and hums lightly to herself, a small smile tugging at her lips.

It's not until I hear the zipper and see the pile of twigs and branches sliding down smooth legs and across the floor that it hits me.

"That's better," she muses brightly, stepping into the elevator and motioning for us to follow with an air of exasperation.

I force my feet to move forward, but it's mostly Peeta dragging me along that lands me in the elevator with a very naked Johanna Mason.

I can feel her arms brushing lightly against mine because for all their extravagance, the Capitol seems to have not taken opulence to the extreme when it comes to the size of their elevators.

In fact I'm almost convinced the one we have at home in the Justice building is twice the size of this one.

It has to be because as Johanna talks animatedly with Peeta about paintings and other unimportant things, her body seems to brush against mine at every gesture.

When she nods, or throws herself into a laugh at joke that is hardly funny, I feel it and it maddens me.

Finally we reach her floor and her fingertips graze along the side of my thighs as she wishes Peeta and I luck in training tomorrow.

I'm too focused on not staring at her bare ass as the doors shut to answer.

When everyone has gone, (when did Chaff and Seeder join us?) I release my grasp on Peeta's hand and look pointedly forward as I wait for the elevator to begin it's ascent again.

He breaks out laughing.


End file.
